


I Met the Beast and I Watched Him Grow

by Yeahyouwish



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character(s), Minor Violence, POV Minor Character, Slurs, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeahyouwish/pseuds/Yeahyouwish
Summary: Chiyoh contemplates her treatment by the Lecter family and Lady Murasaki in comparison to that of people who label her as based on dowa status. Japanese slurs.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: #HanniBelles2019





	I Met the Beast and I Watched Him Grow

**Author's Note:**

> This contains a Japanese slur for the dowa class. Apologies if this causes offence.
> 
> Such things are probably explained in the books which I have no intention of ever reading, but this is my interpretation of why Chiyoh left her home as a teen to serve another Japanese woman, and why she’s so protective of Hannibal and Mischa.

To Chiyoh’s knowledge, there was never any discussion with Lady Murasaki about her background, but she must have known. After all, a woman like that could afford background checks on the background checkers. She must have known. 

But Chiyoh could never tell for sure. 

Burakumin. 

Lady Murasaki always treated Chiyoh with dignity. She didn’t prevent the friendships that she cultivated with Mischa and Hannibal, but encouraged them. She let Chiyoh eat at the table with them, despite that she was considered a maid. She insisted that Chiyoh look her in the eye, in the western way- “Robert’s way”- and gave her pocket money whenever Chiyoh went out to run errands. 

Hamlet people. 

Chiyoh grew quite close to Hannibal, in time. She played games with Mischa when her duties were finished, chasing her around the yard with Hannibal in a game of tag or flipping marbles onto the floor with her while it poured outside and Hannibal sat by the fire reading a book. His eyes would often drift from the page and onto the floor where his sister sat laughing and Chiyoh would feel a rush of love grace the room from floor to ceiling. 

Still, she knew. Underneath his polite countenance, his friendship with Chiyoh, his love for a sweet sister, a certain, cruel curiosity was growing. 

Once she found a dead bird on the porch and went to throw it away before the house was awake. Hannibal caught her at it and, with glove and mask, dissected it at his desk instead. 

Hannibal began to cook and bake, and Chiyoh would be burdened with lists a mile long at market, going from stall to stall looking for something called “fresh cilantro” or “cinnamon sticks.” But it would all be worth it when Hannibal turned to Mischa and gave her a wink and a spoon of something he was baking so she could lick the sweet substance from it. She would laugh and Chiyoh, cleaning the floors of the kitchen, would smile down at her mop. 

Hannibal would tell Chiyoh to stand nearby and taste the sauce, and when she did, she soon discovered that the disgusting smell of coriander could be a subtle aroma, and the strong taste of cinnamon could be a boon to the over-sweetness of an apple pie. 

And the cruel vengeance of a young man could be a great help to a girl in the market. 

She could see in Hannibal’s eye as he watched the man who had groped her walk away with a leering smile, that he would be payed a call. The next day as Lady Murasaki was polishing her swords with Hannibal and Chiyoh was dusting the various ancient armor pieces, he broached an interesting topic with his aunt.

“Did you hear of Lord Matis?” 

Lady Murasaki looked at him briefly. “Yes, Achilles’ tendon cut in his sleep.” She said.

“Did they catch the perpetrator?” Hannibal inquired. 

“No.” She didn’t seem bothered by this. 

“Strange.” Hannibal looked at Chiyoh for a moment, until she felt his gaze and turned her own upon him. Still in conversation with his aunt, he said, “We just chanced upon Lord Matis at the market yesterday.” 

Whatever Lady Murasaki said to this, Chiyoh did’t hear it. Hannibal had turned his attention back to his work, but Chiyoh understood what had been done. She went back to work as well. 

Hannibal tried to teach her other things, too. Maths and sciences far beyond her level and education, but he would not stop unless she gave up. She never gave up. It got to the point where one day Hannibal was home later than usual and saw Mischa at the desk with Chiyoh. She was walking Mischa through a problem in subtracting, helping Mischa count down with little toy blocks. Feeling Hannibal’s eyes, Chiyoh turned to see who was in the door, and he was smiling at her. He said nothing, but closed the door gently before Mischa could be distracted by her brother’s presence. 

Her English and Lithuanian greatly improved under his care, as well. She listened to his corrections and took them to heart, practicing sentences at night laying in bed, until she could sleep. “I would very much like some iced tea, thank you. I would very much like some iced tea, thank you. I would very much like some iced tea, thank you.” 

Surely Hannibal didn’t know? 

And if he had, would he have understood why her family was ostracised for the great crime of having made glue in factories all their lives? 

Western people had their own hierarchies, but would hers seem strict or nonsensical to him? She had to admit she didn’t particularly understand it herself. Perhaps because she had been sent to live in Europe as a child, before understanding could take root. Or perhaps that had been exactly what her family had wanted for her, sending their daughter so far from home to grow up in a culture very different than her own. 

No, Hannibal wouldn’t have understood this. 

No matter his… strangeness. No matter his… sense of cruelty. 

He had, unlike many people, an enduring politeness much like the Japanese, taught to him by his aunt. But he also had a sense of right and wrong different from those around him. The sense that told him that protecting a young woman from being touched against her will was in the right, but slicing a man’s tendon at the ankle was just as acceptable. 

The beast would grow, perhaps far out of her control, until she could do nothing to stop him. And though she could act now, and perhaps save lives, she wondered at who’s life she would be saving. 

Lord Matis? 

Perhaps her own, someday. But she did not mind. If Hannibal intended her death, there must surely be a reason. 

She would go on this way, and rather than aim for the beast, she would turn her weapon upon the hunters, and say, “No. For he has treated me with dignity, when others would not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews  
> Hey peeps, I gotta admit, I really need reviews. Not because I'm like "I won't post without them!" But I actually, truly, will give up thinking that no one cares if I post or not. Most days I can keep going knowing that reviews don't define my work. But some days... not so much. 
> 
> I take constructive criticisms, too. I want to be a better writer. Examples include incorrect chracterization, leaving editing notes in the document (oops, I do this!), or if you think a phrase or word would perhaps better express what I’m trying to get across. 
> 
> If you liked this, or if you think I could do better and you specifically know how, please let me know in a review. 
> 
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